


Endless Phone Calls

by fiercy, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Chris Hemsworth and Henry Cavill [29]
Category: Actor RPF, Australian Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Superman RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-01 20:55:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6535918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiercy/pseuds/fiercy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG <a href="http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read">Citadel</a>. If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed <a href="http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1">here</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Endless Phone Calls

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Chris Hemsworth/Henry Cavill storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read). If you're interested in joining, please contact the mods as listed [here](http://citadel-info.dreamwidth.org/995.html#cutid1).

_Message left on Chris's voicemail by Henry before the actual connecting phone call._

"Did you know there are twenty-seven bones in the hand and, if you smack it against a piece of equipment that you didn't remember was there, you can feel every single one of those bones?

"Miss you. Love you. Talk to you later."

+

Adjusting the ice pack on his right hand, Henry hits speed dial with his left and activates his speaker. Laying his head back down on the pillow, he smiles blearily at the ceiling, his belly flipping in anticipation. God he misses Chris, and he can't wait to hear his voice.

"Hey. I just got your voicemail," Chris says, answering on the second ring this time, his window put down so he can stay parked while he talks to Henry. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay. Nothing broken," Henry answers sheepishly. "Just bruised and a strained finger. I was standing too close to a light rig and swung around and _bam_ , got myself good. I'm on really good painkillers, though, and I have an unexpected day off."

"Good." Relief spreads through Chris, although he wishes he could be there to take care of Henry. "Any special plans for it?" he asks with a smile.

"Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Think of you. Endlessly torment you with texts. Sleep." Henry chuckles, stretching. "At least it happened on a Thursday. I get a long weekend."

Chris chuckles. "There is that." He grins. "I'm working all weekend here so yes, please, text away. There might be lulls on my end but I'll respond when I can."

"I miss you. Love you," Henry murmurs. "How's it going?"

"Fantastic. I'm just tired," Chris says, yawning on cue against the back of his hand. "We had a few delays, weather stuff, so we're working straight through." He smiles, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the headrest. "I miss you too. Love you so much."

"Where are you now? You're not still on, are you?"

"Nope. Done. I'm in my truck in the parking lot talking to the most beautiful man in the world, who just happens to be mine."

Henry smiles. "You're talking to yourself? Cause...most beautiful man is definitely you," he counters. "I'm all yours. Every almost-broken bit of me," he adds with a chuckle. "How far is your hotel? What will you do when you get there?"

"It's pretty close. Maybe a twenty minute drive at this time of day," Chris guesses. He opens his eyes again, straightens up, the parking lot close to empty at this point. "I'll order room service, have a shower, jerk off, fall asleep watching some stupid movie."

"Wish I could be there with you. Hell, just in the same room."

"I know. Me too," Chris says. "But maybe I can make it out next weekend?" It's a long shot but sometimes hope is all they have these days.

"I always keep things like that in the back of my mind, but if you're working straight through you're going to be knackered by next weekend. I'd come out, but it doesn't make much sense if you're doing fourteens. We'd just get frustrated, and I don't want you to have to split your attention. That's sometimes exhausting." It's just the way that they are right now. It'll get better.

"Well, maybe I can put a package together for you at least," Chris says, not completely deterred, "and we can have a nice long chat on the laptops next weekend."

"That sounds perfect," Henry agrees, snuggling down deeper into the bed. "The painkillers are starting to steal my brain," he adds softly.

"You should get some rest then," Chris says, "and I'll call you tomorrow, see how you're doing."

"Promise?" Henry asks, a bit more wistful than usual. "Hell I can't even wank thinking about you," he adds with a chuff and a sigh. "I miss you, love. Sir."

That gets a soft laugh. "Cross my heart," Chris promises. "I love you."

"Goodnight," Henry murmurs, but he doesn't hang up. Which makes him smile. "Apparently I'm a twelve year old girl now. You hang up."

"No you hang up," Chris teases, but he's grinning when he adds "We'll talk tomorrow" before ending the call.

Henry giggles and hangs up, curling into his pillow. Thank goodness his man has a sense of humor.

 

Three weeks later

Chris knows he's supposed to be understanding, that they both knew their schedules would sometimes mean they wouldn't be able to see each other for a while, but this, heading into more than a month since they've been together, this simply _sucks_. "No, I know," he says, nodding into the phone, even though Henry can't see him. "I get it. It's not your fault, or mine. Maybe next weekend..."

"Don't you have pick-ups in L.A. next weekend?" Henry answers with a heavy sigh and a rub to his temple. "And I have that junket in London." He sounds defeated. He _is_ defeated. They'd been so good for so long, so okay with it all, being the grand professionals and the sophisticated long distancers. But now he's just...sick of it. "That's it. I'm canceling. I'll meet you in L.A."

"You can't do that," Chris protests but if he's honest his heart's not really in it and part of him hopes Henry will insist.

"Like hell," Henry counters. "I've been a good little soldier for years, now. You know, I feel like I might be suddenly coming down with a bad case of the flu," he insists.

Chris laughs. "Okay, but only if you're sure," he says. "And next time I'll be the one to blow something off."

Henry grins. "Hopefully me when I show up in L.A.," he purrs into the phone. "Should we stay at Cit instead of going home? Close to the studio and we wouldn't have to worry about cleaning up or supplies or anything."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Chris agrees, smiling at the thought of having Henry up against the wall, mouth all over him soon. "Speaking of which," he says, meaning the home part. "I spoke to Heather and she has a bunch of places to show us, but we both have to be here and not working for that to happen."

"That's great, love. Where did she look first? Around there or somewhere in nowhere? We have to make plans. Unbreakable plans if it has to happen another weekend."

"North of here. To start." Chris shoves the container with last night's leftovers into the microwave. "She's trying to get us close to an airstrip so we can get there from anywhere."

"Okay, now I'm getting excited," Henry says with a chuckle. "I'll spend all night searching the web for horses for sale."

"Oh, great," Chris says with a laugh. "Next thing I know we'll have horses and nowhere to put them."

Chuckling, Henry sinks down deeper into the bed. "I promise I'll wait until we have not only the land, but have agreed how they'll be cared for when we're away," he offers.

"That sounds better," Chris says. "Maybe if you find ones you really like they can hold them for you," he suggests, putting away some dishes while they talk.

"Good possibility," Henry agrees. "What are you doing?" he asks, the very domestic noises from across the line making him smile, and making him homesick.

"Emptying the dishwasher," Chris responds, closing a cupboard. "Why? What are you doing?"

"I'm in bed. I like it when you talk to me while I get sleepy," Henry murmurs, his fingers tangling in the shirt he'd swiped from Chris the last time they were together.

Chris grins. "Dirty talk or talk talk," he says, although he guesses Henry wouldn't be getting very sleepy if it was the first.

"Talk talk," Henry murmurs. "I like talking to you. I like sex with you, too, but sometimes I just want to listen to you talk about you. I feel like there are still so many things we don't know about each other."

"That's only because you think I'm deeper than I am," Chris teases, but he knows what Henry means. The distance, the never really getting to settle down with each other, _learn_ each other... It means they're still at the point where nothing about each other bugs them. And Chris knows that's definitely not normal.

"I don't think, I know," Henry protests, smiling. "For instance, I bet you know exactly what you'd do in a zombie apocalypse and I have no idea of your strategy!"

"You know we're looking at buying a ranch," Chris points out, laughing. "My first strategy would be to get the hell away from people."

Laughing, Henry turns over and tucks the phone under his ear. "We'll have to become preppers. Fill our root cellar with supplies and guns and... oh yeah, bondage furniture."

"Don't forget lube," Chris grins, taking a seat at the kitchen table. "We'll need barrels. Enough to last us for years."

Henry snorts. "Now I'm picturing it, right next to our five thousand gallon water tanks. Fifty-five gallon drums of lube." He giggles, hiding a yawn as best he can in the very next second. "If you had to pick on thing to eat as a treat for the rest of your life--like, all your other food is just serviceable and healthy, but this one thing you can have...say...three times a week or so, what would that one thing be?"

"Pizza." Chris answers without hesitation.

Henry laughs. "And here I was giving you a chance to change your mind. Pizza it is! We shall always have the ingredients for pizza in our zombie shelter. And I'll choose wings. There. We'll be set."

  


A week later...

Henry dials Chris's number with a trembling hand and, god help him, tears in his eyes. He hits cancel a second later, though, when he's coughing to hard to actually talk to him if he answers.

Riding out the worst of it, he tries again, dropping back onto the bed and closing his eyes. This is the worst phone call he's ever had to make in his life.

"Hey," Chris answers, the smile clear in his voice. He's riding on the high of seeing Henry this weekend, nothing able to touch him. "You on your way here?"

Henry takes a deep breath and the silence hangs on the line like a tangible thing. Finally, "No," and damn the tears already filling his eyes. "I can barely get out of bed, Chris," he forces out of a scratchy throat, voice hoarse and low, his frustration and sadness making it even harder to speak.

Disappointment, so huge and dark as to be completely overwhelming, slams into Chris. But a moment later, he's forcing himself to talk, to respond to Henry's obvious distress. "You're really sick," he says quietly.

"Yeah," Henry murmurs. "Karma I suppose," he adds and might have chuckled but he's practically convinced it's true. "I miss you so much and I _need_ to see you." He doesn't even bother to try to hide the tears in his tone.

Chris closes his eyes. "You know I'd come there if I could," he says, aching to have his arms around Henry. "Jump the next plane and come take care of you."

"I know." Henry's dejection is only rivaled by his guilt. "I'm sorry, Chris. I'm so sorry I've let you down."

Chris is stunned. "You have not let me down. Don't you dare beat yourself up over this. You're sick. And as much as I want to see you, I want you feeling better more."

"I love you. I just... I need to sleep. I'll... I'll see you as soon as I can."

"I love you too," Chris says, feeling like he could punch something, he feels so useless. "So much. I wish I could be there to curl up with you. You still have my shirt?"

Henry nods a few times before figuring out that's not enough. "Yes, Sir," he whispers, feeling about five years old and all alone. "Have a good weekend, okay?"

"Yeah. You too. Feel better," Chris whispers before hanging up. Damnit.


End file.
